


Lionhearted

by sparksofwrite



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Abortion, Angst, Gen, Loss of Virginity, Non-Explicit Sex, Pregnancy, excessive use of italics and parentheses, kinkmeme fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2014-03-19
Packaged: 2018-01-16 08:22:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1338616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparksofwrite/pseuds/sparksofwrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's what responsible female corpsmen do," the nurse says, and that's it, really. </p><p>(Annie Leonhardt: apathetic bitch, responsible female corpsman, and almost-mother.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lionhearted

**Author's Note:**

> Initially posted on the kinkmeme under the title "If I Burn," which was a stupid title I chose because I was running late to class. Now it has a stupid title I chose because "Rabbit Heart" was stuck in my head. And because... Leonhardt. 
> 
> Tried to keep my personal views on abortion out of this, but please let me know if I've written anything problematic/inappropriate. 
> 
> Prompt + fill: http://snkkink.dreamwidth.org/8414.html?thread=7355102

i.  
  
The guy was nobody.  
  
They’d sparred a few times, each incident ending with him on the ground and the wooden knife in her hand. She would toss him the prop with a bored expression, brushing her hair out of her face and not even giving him a smirk. If you had told Annie, back then, that she’d eventually let him fuck her against a wall, she probably would not have believed you.   
  
She didn’t love him. She honestly didn’t even like him.   
  
ii.  
  
But when two boys come up to her in the mess hall one night, tell her their friend wants to meet her behind the barracks at midnight, she doesn’t tell them to fuck off. She doesn’t remember saying anything. She levels them with a calm and steady look, and when they glance nervously at each other and walk away, she doesn’t call them back.   
  
She’s not stupid. She knows what he wants.   
  
But she’s a curious, horny fourteen-year-old girl who has never gone farther than kissing, so her reasoning is  _why the fuck not._  
  
It might be different if she believed in love. But she doesn’t.   
  
She believes in trust, but not as a requirement for intimacy and certainly not as a thing to be handed out.   
  
 _(Treat the whole world as your enemy.)_  
  
She believes in loyalty, but not to just anyone.   
  
 _(Even if the whole world will curse and resent you, remember that your father will always be on your side.)_  
  
She believes in a self-serving attitude, and this is why she crawls over her sleeping bunkmate around midnight and leaves, minding the creaky spots in the floorboards.   
  
iii.  
  
She’s not sure what time it is exactly, but it’s cloudy, so it’s dark with no moonlight. She drags her hand along the side of the wooden building so as not to get lost, her shoes crunching in the dry grass, until she physically bumps into another warm body. Before she knows it she has someone else’s tongue in her mouth, hands on her breasts, her back against the side of the building and she hopes she didn’t make too much noise when he pushed her against it.   
  
Her eyes are wide against the dark and all she can think as she lets him pull her pants down to her knees is that it’d better be fucking fantastic, because it’s late and they have training in the morning and if it’s not worth it she’ll be pissed.   
  
Well, it hurts like an absolute  _mother,_  anyway. She knew that that might happen, but she has a high pain tolerance, so she kind of assumed…  _Whatever._ She lets her eyes close a little and doesn’t make a sound, her hands splayed flat on the wooden wall behind her.   
  
It’s a five-minute ordeal. He groans and breathes heavily into her neck, making her shiver. She hopes he hasn’t left bruises on her chest from when he was groping her- communal showers aren’t the easiest places to hide an injury, especially awkward ones that can’t have occurred during training. She wrinkles her nose in disgust and irritation when he comes so quickly that the pain hasn’t had a chance to recede.   
  
He kisses her with excessive tongue, one last time, before pulling away and letting her tug her clothes back on. They haven’t said anything the entire time, and Annie sees no reason why that should change just because they’ve fucked.   
  
She walks away, her hand dragging against the side of the building once again, listening to him leave in the opposite direction. Inside of three minutes, she’s climbing over a sleeping Mina, settling back into her bed. She sighs in annoyance. It hurts when she clenches her fists, and she takes a second to realize that her fingers and palms are filled with tiny splinters.   
  
 _Whatever._  
  
She sleeps. 

iv.   
  
It’s the next night, in the showers, when she finally notices the bruises. That just fucking figures.   
  
She’s not self-conscious or anything. But it’s nothing she cares to talk about or explain, so when the other girls glance at the hand-shaped marks on her hips, she only returns their curious gazes with a solid stare of her own. If she’s doing it right, it should convey a straightforward message.  _Go on, say something. Watch what happens._  
  
So Mina only expresses concern with her eyes, having been there the night before when Annie was propositioned. She’s not judging her, Annie knows. She’s a good friend like that. Mina will probably wait until later, when everyone else is asleep, before rolling over to face Annie and keep her awake with questions. She’ll ask if Annie is okay, and if he was as rough as her bruises indicate. Then she’ll blush like the quiet virgin she is and ask if it felt good. If it was worth it.   
  
The answers will be  _yes, no,_  and  _go to sleep, Mina._  
  
v.   
  
The idea begins to itch in her brain the day she wakes up more exhausted than she was when she went to bed. It’s five weeks later.   
  
She knows for sure when the smell of food makes her mouth fill with saliva and her stomach clench with nausea, even though she’s constantly hungry.   
  
She counts backwards in her head the first time this happens. Missed periods aren’t uncommon in training, exercise and stress usually being the causes. When she can’t remember getting hers, she counts backwards again. And again. Each time, she concentrates harder and harder, sitting down on the edge of her bunk and putting her head in between her knees, trying only semi-successfully to suck air into her lungs.  _Fuck. No. Please no._  
  
The nurse at the infirmary confirms her anxieties. Annie sits in one of the chairs, feeling awkward  _(she’s never been to the infirmary before; she’ll fight through fevers and fractures and everything in between)_  and afraid  _(the presence of fear is what really concerns her; when was the last time she truly felt scared?)_.   
  
 _You have a few options,_  the nurse says, and they both know she isn’t referring to adoption, keeping the child, or termination.  
  
No, her only options are how exactly she wants to go about the abortion.   
  
 _It’s what responsible female corpsmen do,_  the nurse says, unapologetic in her condemnation of women who choose to continue their pregnancies, and that’s it, really.   
  
 _How soon can I get it taken care of?_  Annie asks, her decision made for her.  
  
vi.   
  
Medicine, at this point in time, isn’t advanced enough for her to be awake during the procedure. She was offered the procedure or the pill, and when she was warned of how the induced miscarriage would feel, she chose the surgery.   
  
She isn’t worrying too much at this point. The operation is supposedly safe, and she’s already had time to get over her fear. She hasn’t worried for even a second about whether this is morally right— the god they talk about is completely impotent compared to the strength of a titan. She is not impressed by their claims of fire and brimstone. Give her bones snapping in her jaws, blood leaking from between her teeth. That, she knows, is real power. Power you can see and feel.   
  
She doesn’t look away from her arm as they puncture her skin with a needle, injecting her with a sedative. They tell her to count backwards from ten. She rolls her eyes at the simplicity of the task and tries to do so, blacking out between seven and six.   
  
She has cramps when she awakens, and it isn’t for a few hours that she can leave the infirmary. It’s a few days before she stops bleeding.   
  
She’s done the right thing.   
  
vii.   
  
If anyone finds out, they don’t say anything to her and Annie doesn’t particularly care to begin with.   
  
Nobody asks her why she missed training that day. Instead of tormenting her, her fellow trainees give her a wide berth, as if she’s contagious. She doesn’t mind. She doesn’t want to be close to anyone anyway.   
  
Only two and a half more years, she promises herself. Two and a half more years until she can move onto the Military Police. Until she can forget this whole thing ever happened.  
  
Annie runs just like the rest of them, hating drills just like the rest of them. She runs the way she lives her life, trudging through no matter how tired she gets.   
  
She sees the boy occasionally. She makes a point not to look at him, and they never talk again. She can’t think of what she might say, were they to speak.   
  
She will treat the whole world as her enemy. She will remember where her loyalties lie.   
  
She’ll keep fighting. It’s all she can really do. 


End file.
